Game of Thrones: The Summer's Snow
by SirenTemptress
Summary: Born to a southern house and raised in the north, the chosen heir to House Lonmouth, Plio, must find her way through love, loss, hurt and betrayal in a world riddled by disloyalty and mutiny, a world ruled by ruthless demons and child kings. Will the sacrifices she has to make be worth it? Or will fate take over? Follows the TV Show canon to season 6. Rated M in advance, enjoy!
1. Prologue

Prologue:

House Lonmouth was one of the most ancient houses in Westeros, however they were not one of the most noble.

Known for ruthless battle tactics and bloodlust, as well as their charms and romantic ties, they were a loyal house under the rule of House Baratheon.

The house believed in the freedom of the people. However, their justice system was almost feral, due to the belief that criminals should be punished by their own crimes.

However, this time was a happy time. A time for peace and celebration.

After eight years of marriage, two stillbirths, four miscarriages and two sons lost during infancy, a healthy baby girl was born to a love torn couple.

She was beautiful. Perfectly and unmistakeably beautiful.

The Lady Plio, born to House Lonmouth, came into the world as a fighter.

It was midnight, and outside was stormy. The view from her mothers window framed a wild sea and cliff faces that shined like mirrors in the lightning.

As she stood by the window, cradling her newborn, Sandrine Lonmouth looked out towards the sea. The isle of Estermont, usually visible, was hidden in fog and darkness.

Sandrine hummed to her daughter, her first born, as she lay sleeping in her arms. Her lord husband, Caelan, was announcing the birth of their firstborn to his brother.

Richard, the Lord of House Lonmouth, had long awaited the birth of a child fit to succeed his place. Having three sons of his own, he deemed all unfit as he believed in a long for told prophecy.

The prophecy told of an heir born fair as summer in the midst of a storm, would unite the kingdom alongside another born of fire and ice.

Lord Richard believed the heir would have blonde hair and blue eyes, and that they would not be born of his blood but by the blood of the true heir.

Caelan Lonmouth was his elder brother, but he had given up his right to the seat of House Lonmouth in return to marry a woman their parents deemed ill matched, despite her families wealth.

And now, it seemed Richard's premonitions proved true.

Plio Lonmouth was born with a fine spattering of blonde hair the colour of sunlight and eyes blue as the summer skies. Her skin was fair with a hint of gold and her peaceful, slumbering face as captivating as an ocean's breeze.

It was decided that, in order to become the heir which the prophecy told of, the babe would be sent to the families northern allies, House Stark, along with her parents. The choice was made in order to keep the girl safe.

Plio Lonmouth was hastily blessed by Maester Rydian before the family left in a carriage for Winterfell, after the nights storm had passed.

The journey was long and uncomfortable, with the weather growing colder the further north they travelled, but for the safety of their first and seemingly only child, it was worth it.

It was all worth it./pre


	2. Chapter 1: Winterfell's Ward

Chapter 1: Winterfell's Ward

291 AL

All Sandrine could do was smile as her soul surviving daughter grew. She was becoming a young women, and was given the freedom to not act like one.

Sandrine stood beside her now closest friend Catelyn Tully, the wife of Lord Eddard Stark, smiling and laughing at watching their children play.

Plio was playing with Catelyn's eldest son, Robb, along with the bastard of House Stark, Jon Snow. They were playing Princes and Princess', Plio's favourite game. It was her tenth name day, and Robb had taken it upon himself to spoil his friend with whatever she wanted to do.

The Starks were a large family. Robb had turned ten four months before Plio had, along with Jon. Next was Sansa, the gorgeous five year old girl who was a mirror image of her mother. Followed by a three year old Arya, known for looking like her father, and two year old Bran, the knight in training. Sansa had no interest in running around in the wet mud that covered the floor of Winterfell's courtyard, where as Arya and Bran were too small to keep up with the three ten year olds.

Although Sandrine was captivated by her daughter, she couldn't help but feel jealous of Catelyn Stark's swollen belly. She with child and this would be her fifth. Sandrine had longed for another child, but she was now barren and it took so long and had caused so much pain just to get Plio.

Once, it had got so bad she was willing to raise a then 1 year old Jon Snow. Sandrine Lonmouth was a women who cursed with a single child and a desire for more.

She shook her head just as she had heard a scream. Eddard's ward, Theon Greyjoy, was holding Jon to a wall by his throat and Plio was lying on the ground. She was covered in mud with blood dripping from her nose.

"Take your hands off him Greyjoy!" Robb shouted, trying to menacing as he pointed his wooden sword towards the older boy.

"Why should I? He's just a runt, nobody would miss him." He taunted, shrugging.

"Theon!" Ned shouted as his towering frame appeared in the door way, disturbed from his council. "You are no in the Iron Islands, you are in the North. I will not tolerate this foolery!"

With that, the boy unhanded Jon and bowed to the northern Lord, apologising to the ground. Jon fell in a heap to the floor.

Sandrine ran to her daughter as Ned left the squabbling children, with Cat making her way to Robb.

She wiped her daughters nose on her sleeve, "Plio, my darling, are you-"

Plio didn't waste a second, she scrambled away from her mother and to Jon, still sat in the mud and examining his grazed hands.

"Jon, are you ok? Let me see." She asked the boy.

Plio and Jon had always been fond of one another, ever since they could talk or run. Jon looked up at her, a sheepish smile on his face. "I'll be fine, its just a scrape. I'm not even bleeding."

Plio helped him to his feet and he stumbled. Robb went over to help support his brother as they helped him to a bench.

Robb and Jon had a unique relationship. Despite Jon's status as the Bastard of Winterfell and Eddard's only mistake, the two were as close as two brothers could be. True born or otherwise. Plio was the best friend to both of them, the three being inseparable for years.

However, this made Plio an outsider in the eyes of the other girls her age in Winterfell. She didn't care much for needlepoint or dancing. Instead, Plio preferred to run, learn swordplay and archery. This came in her favour, though, as the women of House Lonmouth were all taught to fight with weapons and to hunt, but they also studied the crafts more associated with women. They knew how to be women and how to be warriors.

Plio knew that she was a woman and that she wanted to be a warrior. It would be getting her to conform that would prove difficult.

It wasn't until a half year later that the young girl started to become a women worthy of her title.

292 AL

The youngest of House Stark, Rickon, was born on a summers evening. He had thin, tiny ringlets of auburn hair and a face that could heal all evil.

Catelyn was holding her newborn. No matter the babes beauty, no one could prevent him from crying. She paced with him, rocked him, sang to him. Nothing seemed to help.

Then, one morning, she woke to hear the boy crying. She ran to his nursery in a state of tire and panic only to hear the crying stop as she was ten large paces from the room.

She snuck to the nursery to see Plio, still in her nightgown, sat on a small chair by her sons bassinet. Plio had her book in her lap, using one hand to turn the page. The other was tickling Rickon before he grabbed a finger in his tiny hand as she read fairy tales to him.

All Catelyn could do was stand there smiling, caught between selfishly wanting to go back to bed for another couple of hours and wanting to continue watching as Rickon gurgled with contentment at his new friend.

It was like that for a while, until Rickon could walk and talk at least. Plio would tend to him when the other women and Catelyn couldn't. It allowed her to rest, until her youngest child began to grow up.

That was the first sign of Plio growing up. Slowly, she spent less time using what few minutes she had free running after Robb and Jon, and more of it doing more women like activities. She sewed, she sang, she danced.

However, due to her own family traditions, she still learnt to fight with swords and other weapons. By 12, she could split her challengers arrows. By 14, she knew how to make the best of her weaknesses.

By 15, she fell in love.

Who would know that by 17, she would lose him.


	3. Chapter 2: Forbidden or Unrequited pt 1

**Chapter 2: Forbidden or Unrequited**

 **298 AL**

 **Season 1, Episode 1: Winter is Coming Pt.1**

 **Plio Lonmouth**

What was expected of Plio was making her life progressively harder. Yes, the young women was still allowed to train in swordplay and archery but, she was expected to act elegant and dignified like the other ladies in Winterfell. She no longer ran around with the boys, clashing swords and beating them in duels more often then not. Instead she spent what little free time she had reading historical texts and learning about her homeland, The Stormlands.

However today started a little different. Instead of starting the day with needlework like the other girls, she was reading a tale about her grandfather Sir Rhygon, known as Death's Hand. He was a skilled warrior and assassin, but was also known for his charm and poetry. She was leaning against one of the wooden posts that held up one of the open hallways of Winterfell when her train of thought was broken by Robb, Jon and Rickon's laughter as their brother, Bran, missed the archery target. Plio looked up and shook her head at the boys just as the bellowing voice of Lord Eddard Stark spoke.

"And which of you were a marksman at ten? Keep practising Bran. Go on."

"Don't think too much, Bran." Jon coached.

"Now relax your bow arm." Robb continued.

"Quick Bran! Faster!" Rickon piped in.

The smiles on the boys faces quickly disappeared and they went back to work. Before Robb and Jon could instruct their brother further, an arrow flew past Plio's right. It landed in the dead centre of the target. Everyone, including Plio, looked round.

The archer turned out to be the youngest Stark daughter, Arya. She smirked at her brothers and gave them a small curtsy, mocking Bran. Her brother's face quickly changed from frustration and stress to anger as he dropped his bow and chased Arya around the courtyard. Giving a frustrated grunt as he did so, making his brothers and father laugh once again.

"I bet you can do better then that, my Lady." Robb said to Plio, a cheeky grin on his face.

Plio rolled her eyes and grabbed her own bow, positioning two arrows. She smiled back at Robb and closed her eyes. Plio took a breath and let the arrows go, one splitting Arya's arrow and the other piercing the target above it. She curtseyed to Robb before smiling shyly at Jon.

Lady Plio's affections for Jon had changed since they were children. She had began to have romantic feeling's for the Bastard of Winterfell, feelings that were inappropriate for a young women of her title. Jon Snow made her feel giddy and nervous in a way no other man or boy ever could, and probably would. Plio knew what she felt, how she felt.

What she didn't know is whether or not Jon felt the same, or at least similar to how she felt. Jon never really paid any women any attention, not even the red headed prostitute he was rumoured to spend a night with.

Plio was bought back to reality by Sir Rodrick Cassel's voice and a nudge from Robb.

"Robb and Jon, you are to join your father in the pursuit of a deserter. As are you Bran." Winterfell's sword master commanded, "Theon and Plio, the two of you are to join as well."

Plio was used to being asked to hunt with the men, but to pursue a deserter? Sir Rodrick must have seen the questioning look on her face as he continued.

"My Lady, it has been requested you attend too."

Lady Plio looked up to the balcony to see Lord Eddard, Lady Catelyn and her father, Lord Caelan, watching their exchange from the balcony. She curtseyed to Lord and Lady Stark and bowed her head to her father before making her way to the stables to saddle her horse.

* * *

 **Lord Caelan Lonmouth**

Seeing his only surviving child and first born daughter grow up into a beautiful women was a constant light in Lord Caelan's life. Despite the misfortune of not having a son, Caelan felt gifted to have a beautiful family. His wife was his childhood sweetheart and the daughter of the Lord who and fostered him in his youth. Despite coming from one of the leading families of Westeros, Caelan's own parents had found his desired match to be an ill made one. The family were enemies of the crown at that point as Robert Baratheon had just taken the crown from the Targaryan's.

Lord Caelan spent every night haunted by his youth. If he had married a women accepted by his family then maybe he would have had the large family he wanted so much, the large family he saw everyone else have. Maybe he would be Lord Lonmouth and maybe his mother wouldn't have drank herself to an early grave the evening he married his beloved.

But if he had, his beloved would belong to someone else and his treasured daughter would not exist. Lord Caelan wanted to make sure his daughter had no regrets in life and no reason for her youth to haunt her.

Caelan saw the looks Jon gave Plio when his daughter did not. A look of longing and wishing in his eyes. Caelan was watching the Stark boys from one of Winterfell's open hallways, his daughter reading a book below them. He was joined by Lord Eddard and Lady Catelyn when Sir Rodrick Cassel joined them with news.

"Lord Stark, my Lady." Cassel started, nodding to Lord Caelan. "A guardsman just rode in from the hills. They've captured a deserter from The Nights Watch."

Laughter erupted from below them as Bran began to chase his sister, who had escaped from her needlepoint class, after she shot the target. Lady Plio also took a turn, further beating the two children by shooting two arrows at once.

"Get the lads to saddle their horses and Lady Plio too." Eddard replied nodding at Caelan.

Eddard and Caelan had been friends since they were boys, along with the now King Robert. The three men had grown together trained together and fought together, despite being raised in two very different areas of Westeros. Back then the boys were known as Ned, Rob and Cai. Caelan was also one of the very few people who knew the truth about Jon's parentage, due to Ned feeling like he had to tell someone in case he didn't survive to tell the boy himself, and now Caelan knew possibly even more so then Ned himself.

"Do you have to?" Catelyn asked her husband, knowing what was about to take place.

"He swore an oath Cat." Ned replied calmly.

"Law is law, my Lady." Cassel further insisted.

"The boy made his choice."Caelan said, avoiding eye contact.

It wasn't that Caelan feared Catelyn Stark, even though the women from the Riverlands was scary at times, it was more the fact that he hated seeing the fear that was no doubt apparent on Lady Stark's face. His own wife made the same face each time their daughter was asked to accompany the men outside of the gates of Winterfell. Caelan knew if he looked at Catelyn's face, he would regret it.

"Tell Bran he's coming too." Ned said at the last minute.

"Ned! Ten is too young to see such things!" The fear for a stranger from the Wall quickly became the fear for her child's capability to sleep soundly at night.

"He won't be a boy forever." Ned started "And winter is coming."

The two lords made their way to the stables. Before the left the stone staircase leading to the courtyard, Caelan stopped and placed a hand on his friends arm.

"I want to ask a favour." Caelan said, looking his friend dead in the eyes.

Ned nodded in reply.

"We've both seen the way Jon and Plio look at each other. I want to create a marriage pact." Caelan hopped he seemed confident, inside the man was shaking in his boots.

"I can't do that, Cai. Jon has not made his feelings known and I am not at liberty to force know that." Ned replied just as calmly.

"You're turning me down?" The words came out of Caelan's mouth before he could stop them.

"And you're going on a few secretive glances. The kids are growing up, a crush isn't enough. Jon has nothing to offer Plio and your daughter's name will be tarnished if she marries a bastard." After that Ned smiled sorrowfully at his friend and Caelan knew he was beat.

"I'm sorry Caelan, but I can't."


End file.
